


Something Keeps Me Holding Onto Nothing

by Vanilla_Ella



Series: Roommates AU [2]
Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Angst, Apartment Mates, Bad days for two sad boys, Flat mates, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self Harm, Kinda, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, sorry i suck at tags, they are not in a band, vent fic, whatever you wanna call them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9631019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Ella/pseuds/Vanilla_Ella
Summary: "I love you."It's quiet, sudden. Trembles like a fragile leaf blowing in the wind, threatened to be torn away from the autumn tree. The statement is an embodiment of the fear of holding on, and the fear of letting go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi frens...
> 
> I hope people are around on a random Wednesday to read this? It turned out longer than I expected, which I hope is alright. I just needed to get this out of my system. 
> 
> If implied self harm triggers you, please don't read! I love you; don't hurt yourself please <3

Tyler can already tell it's gonna be a bad day when his alarm goes off late.

Impossible, right?

Apparently, not for Tyler Joseph.

"Frick, frick, frick," he repeats as he tugs on his skinny jeans hurriedly (because Tyler was not one to take cussing lightly, thank you very much) and slicks back his hair as best as he can.

Despite his efforts (which, to be honest, weren't the best), his head looks like a nest. A very brown, very messy nest.

He growls as he hurriedly tries to button up his simple white shirt, hands trembling and usually-nimble fingers shaking so much he slips the wrong button in the wrong hole for three times before realizing and he's sent to start over.

Rummaging through his bedside drawer, he finds his can of dry shampoo, sprays it over his hair and nearly blinds himself with cologne, but it doesn't matter, because he'll be late for an important job interview and if he doesn't get it, that means he'll have to keep working in the hell hole of the back stocking room of a run down home goods store.

Brushing his teeth for a grand total of thirty seconds, washing his face with only three, he grabs his keys, rushes out of his room, running past the breakfast bar along the way, glancing at the cereal longingly before sighing irritatedly as he realizes he just doesn't have the time.

He's nearly out the door when he stops, pats his jeans frantically.

His phone.

He must have left it in Josh's room earlier when they were up last night watching Fight Club in his apartment mate's room.

Groaning, he runs back through the room, down the hall, hurriedly letting himself into his friend's room without knocking.

They've been living long enough together and had been friends for longer, so Tyler knows that though it isn't unusual for Josh to still be asleep at 11 AM, something is a bit off when he grabs his phone off of the nightstand just beside the bed, ready to bolt out because, darn, now he's really late, but then he glances at Josh.

He's sleeping, but his eyes are red, looking deep-sunken and tired as if he had just drifted off, his mouth tilted down ever so slightly into a frown, his breathing steady and deep, almost melancholic.

He stares for a moment.

Sleep, his frantic brain screams, just let him sleep. He's just tired.

Tyler mentally agrees, mind racing too frantically and a thousand thoughts flying around haphazardly, and bending down for just a quick moment and pressing a warm kiss to his friends cheek, he's off.

 

•••••••

 

Of course they won't see him. He's already half an hour late by the time he finds a place to park his car (sometimes he loathed living in the city, as many times he had to park blocks away from where he wanted to be due to the fact that people were there. Earlier). Apparently, if you wanted to work at a department store, being late was completely unacceptable.

Which Tyler does understand.

But he's upset. He's just upset because he feels like it's not his fault he got up so late, and it's not his fault that he wanted the job so bad. 

When he walks back to the car, he feels raindrops begin falling from the gray sky, and he sighs. The world felt the same as him, apparently.

By the time he gets to his car, his hair is full of water, his outfit wet with rain, and he wants to scream.

Of course he forgot his umbrella.

 

•••••••

 

Tyler curses Brendon. 

Why did he have to call in sick?

He's grumbling under his breath as he blasts music as loud as he can in his earbuds, forcefully putting small boxes of tea on shelves before moving to another aisle.

He tells Siri to make a note reminding him to text Urie a long letter of complaint (i.e. screw you, you selfish ape) and force him to take him out to a restaurant when he gets better for payment. Tyler already hated his job. Why was he the one who was expected to cover his co-worker's shift? 

He liked Brendon, but sometimes? He wanted to push the guy off a cliff.

 

•••••••

 

He stops by the grocery on his way back around 5 PM.

It was a horrible day, he decided, and he deserved something good. Maybe he'd pick up a package of Oreos, a bag of peach rings.

By the time he's checking out, he's picked up much more than that, multiple bags of Oreos, chips, various sweets, two tubs of ice cream, and a gallon of milk accompanied by a box of Waffle Crisps that make him look like he's preparing for a slumber party with a bunch of eight year olds, but he doesn't care anymore.

He throws the groceries into the seat beside him, hastily peeling off and driving quickly in the rain.

He just wants to get home and fall into a sugar-induced coma.

He rubs his tired eyes when he stops at a red light.

 

••••••

 

With some difficulty, he manages to unlock the door, balancing the paper bags in his arms haphazardly (because second trips were for losers) and steps in, wiping his wet shoes on the mat with a sigh. At least the apartment building had a garage he could park in, so his groceries weren't too wet by the time he got in. That was a blessing, he supposed.

That's when he realizes, with a heavy heart, that the 'easy' half of the day is over, because when he steps inside, he hears the most horrifying sound he could and would ever hear.

Sobs.

They weren't light, or quiet even. They were loud, heaving sobs that no doubt racked the frame of the owner and rang through the apartment.

Tyler moves quick despite his fatigue, rushing in, having dropped the bags of snacks beside the door and sprinting into the living room.

Fear clouds his head for a moment, because he knows. He knows what Josh is capable of, what he's done once upon a time, and he's afraid.

His heart breaks when he sees the lump on the couch, shaking and crying like there was no tomorrow.

"Hey, hey," he says quietly, shakily, approaching his friend in long strides, kneeling beside the couch and placing a hand on his back.

Josh turns a little, looks at him over the plush blanket that's pulled up all the way to his nose, and he sobs again, rolling over. 

"Joshie, what's wrong?" Tyler stands up, sits on the couch beside the broken boy, fingers immediately finding their way to his bright yellow hair and carding through it. 

He'll never say it out loud, but he loves it. It's bright, and unnaturally yellow, like sunshine or dandelions. 

It makes him look like an angel that was kissed by the sun.

"Leave me alone," Josh cries, pulling the blanket over his head after knocking Tyler's hand away.

"Don't do that," Tyler sighs, heart aching as he presses a hand on his arm and gently caresses him. Little does he know of how much his touch burns Josh. "Don't shut me out, friend."

At that word, Josh seems to cry harder, doubling over as if he's in pain and clutching his arms around himself. 

It hurts Tyler so much.

Forcefully, he pulls the blanket off just enough to go a little down past his middle, and he finds Josh staring at him, sob caught in his throat, with wide, red-rimmed eyes, his nose a shade of crimson as well as the blotchy spots on his face.

He's never looked more beautiful, but Tyler doesn't say it. 

"Leave me alone," he repeats as he begins crying again, uselessly taking hold of the blanket and trying to tug it back over himself, but Tyler rips it out of his hands and throws it completely off, takes Josh in his arms and holds him despite his weak protests and the half-hearted fists pounding against his chest.

"I'm here," Tyler says, and his eyes are full of tears when Josh just melts, breaks down completely in his arms, sobbing into his neck. "I'm here, Josh, just let me be here."

"I love you."

It's quiet, sudden. Trembles like a fragile leaf blowing in the wind, threatened to be torn away from the autumn tree. The statement is an embodiment of the fear of holding on, and the fear of letting go.

But Tyler doesn't see any of this. Tiredly, he just nods, says "I love you too," kisses Josh's sunshine hair, and lets him cry more.

After a solid half hour of heart-wrenching cries, Josh's sore voice dies down into small hiccups, shuddering breaths. He doesn't say anything, simple sniffles against his best friend's chest as he stares blankly at the windowsill a few strides away.

"I'll make us some pasta, okay?" Tyler gently tilts his head up, nuzzling his forehead for a moment. Josh still smells like sleep, coconut shampoo he no doubt scrubbed into his highlighter hair the night before, and it makes Tyler smile just a little.

Josh nods wordlessly, lets Tyler lie him down and tuck him back into their toffee-colored couch. 

Tyler's fast in the small kitchen, too used to the usual easy Parmesan pasta he's used to making since the olden days when they were both on a bit of a budget. Things have eased up however, and they were able to afford more things despite working jobs they didn't particularly enjoy, but there's a strange comfort that comes with eating a familiar dish that reminds them of simpler times, when economy didn't drive them too crazy and when they had enough time for sleeping, watching Netflix, and going out.

Nowadays, things are different, slowly winding down, time slipping out between their fingers and leaving them wondering where it went, and it makes Tyler a bit sad.

The bathroom door shutting close jerks him out of his thoughts, and he looks at the empty couch, peeks his head over the breakfast bar and around the corner to look down the hallway, only to see a crack of light spilling onto the carpet.

He breathes in deep, tries to still his heart that begins beating quicker. 

Josh is fine, he tells himself as he ignores his trembling hands that hastily and precariously finish the dinner. Josh wouldn't try anything stupid.

Or at least he hopes.

Once he's finally fried an egg, he places it and some of the pasta into a bowl hurriedly, rushing down the hall and into Josh's room, placing the bowl on the nightstand after violently sticking the fork in the bowl in hopes of grounding it there.

For a second, he contemplates just waiting for Josh in his room, but he's nervous, too nervous, and he's done with lying to himself when he says everything is fine.

He feels guilt crash into him like a flash flood when he stands on his tippytoes just in front of the bathroom's doorframe, grabs the small key lying up there, but he's too worried to care that he's probably invading his best friend's privacy, too concerned for his angel's wellbeing.

He knocks once, twice, though. "Josh?"

No answer.

The gnawing of his stomach grows larger as he quietly unlocks the door carefully, opening the door slowly in hopes of not scaring him.

To his relief, Josh stands there just in front of the sink, back turned to him. He's staring at his hands--no, a small razor being twisted dangerously in his fingertips quietly. 

He's so calm, so silent that it scares Tyler more than if he lying on the white tiles and choking on his own blood. 

"Hey, what are you doing, silly?" he asks, voice wavy with his nervousness, his light-hearted attempt in hoping to disregard the dark thoughts no doubt swimming in Josh's mind about what he could do with the razor failing miserably as his shaky hands touch Josh's, gently takes the razor. He opens the small window above the shower, throws it out as casually and calmly as he can, knowing that it would be difficult to find something so small if it dropped from the 16th floor (where they were conveniently located). 

Josh just stares blankly at the mirror, eyes inexpressive and empty as he stares at his reflection. 

He can't see himself, only Tyler when he comes into the frame, a soft, trembling smile on his lips and gentle hands that wrap around his shoulders and begin pushing him out of the bathroom.

"Come on, Joshie," Tyler says. "I made you some dinner." And he gently sits him down on his bed, wraps his red comforter around his lap like a little nest, sitting beside him.

"Don't wanna eat," Josh mumbles uselessly, although he knows there's no point in trying to put up a fight against Tyler. He always gives in anyway.

"I know, baby," Tyler sighs, pushes yellow curls out of coffee eyes. "But you haven't eaten anything today, have you?"

Josh is quiet. 

Tyler frowns, picks up the bowl and a fork. "Your body is gonna start eating itself if you don't eat."

"Maybe then I won't be so fat," Josh murmurs, curling in on himself as he tries to keep the water in his eyes this time.

"Hey, don't say that, man," the brunet shakes his head, reaching out with one arm to wrap it around his friend and pulling him to lean against him.

"Come on, open up," he bids, placing a forkful against Josh's lips.

Letting out a soft moan in silent protest, he closes his eyes and opens his mouth reluctantly, lets Tyler shove in the forkful. His stomach growls when he swallows, begging for more but his mind screams for him to stop.

Another bite is waiting in front of his lips before he knows it, and he looks up at Tyler, eyes silently begging as he shakes his head.

"One more, sweetheart," Tyler says softly, his other hand lying on his stomach and gently caressing him reassuringly. 

Josh doesn't understand how he isn't disgusted by how fat he is.

Sniffling, he opens his mouth again, nearly crying when another larger bite is pushed past his lips.

When Tyler puts the bowl back on the nightstand and wraps both arms around his friend, Josh hears his smile in his voice when he whispers, "You did so good, Joshie. You're so good for me."

He forces the pasta down his throat, tears brimming over as he hides his face against Tyler's chest. The rain that falls outside grows louder, pounds against the window. 

It's dark in the city already, heavy, dark clouds spread across the sky and neon lights shining through the windows, pouring orange lights on them. 

When Tyler reaches out to turn on the lights, Josh grabs his hand.

"Don't," is all he says.

"Okay."

He lets him turn on the TV though, and Tyler is able to find a documentary playing on cats. Knowing how much Josh loves kittens, he prays and hopes it'll lift his friend's spirits.

The light from the TV illuminates Josh's face, but when Tyler looks down to gauge his reaction, his coffee eyes are glazed over, blank.

He can barely suppress a sigh.

They lie there for an hour, Tyler listening to the soft sounds coming from the TV, and the rain. Or is it just Josh's tears falling?

His angel tiredly asks him if he can sleep with him, and Tyler smiles, nods. "Of course, silly," he says, turns off the television and lies down beside Josh.

They're both quiet, lying on their sides and staring at one another silently for a few moments that seem to stretch on forever. 

The pain in his best friend's eyes takes Tyler's breath away, and he just wants to know why he's so sad.

He thought Josh had been doing alright; it had been months since his last breakdown, and even then, it was small, only lasted for an hour or two before he was smiling and laughing again.

"Why?" almost slips through.

He doesn't ask though.

Instead, it's "You okay?" he inquires softly, reaching out and gently caressing Josh's arm.

The yellow-haired boy nods.

Rain falls.

Lights spill and shine on them. 

"I love you." The last shreds of hope are sprinkled in the words but Tyler can't hear it.

The brown haired boy yawns, his tired mind smiles. "I love you too."

Josh opens his mouth, closes it. The final light seems to be drained from him, the way he seems to deflate even more, the way his frown deepens.

He rolls over.

Tyler doesn't seem to think anything's wrong, thinks Josh is just tired. He moves closer, presses himself against Josh, wraps his arms around him and presses his face into his nape. "Sleep well, baby," he mumbles against skin, pressing a kiss there.

Josh doesn't cry again until he knows Tyler fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a review telling me if you liked it? It really really means a lot to me <333


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